Phoenix

Chapter Ten

Della's heartbeat was growing faster with every second the plane took to reach its destination. That same plane was transporting her further and further from Perry and nearer and nearer to her daughter. Her daughter... her baby... That same little girl whom she had in front of her for several months and whom she could not recognize as her own flesh and blood. Once the plane came in for landing at O'Hare Airport, Della collected her purse, hurried downstairs and rushed to the disembarkation hall to claim the small suitcase and leave the place. Then, she caught a glimpse of an unfriendly-looking man in the distance holding up a sign with her name on it. This was one of Michael's men who had been waiting for her, to take her to where she would be reunited with her daughter. Deciding antagonizing the foot soldier would only ruin the precarious toehold she had to find Peggy, Della nodded to the man and allowed him to escort her to a waiting vehicle.

When they arrived at the place, she couldn't help but be amazed at the large mansion in front of her eyes. It wasn't just a mansion—it was a sprawling estate, the kind that Cinderella happily lived in after her marriage to the prince.

I knew Michael's family had money. They always did. But between their desire to live philanthropically and to give back to Chicago, they never lived in such an ostentatious place.

The Domenico's were certainly not so rich as to give themselves that kind of life and luxuries. In Della's humble opinion, this was far more of Michael's taste than that of his elders. In that moment, looking up at the palace he owned, Della realized she would never have been happy with Michael if she had married him. She would have been adorned with luxury, but it would have quickly become a trap.

Like a bird in a gilded cage, she mused.

After getting out of the car, the unpleasant man motioned for her quickly enter the house. He swept her past the foyer and the grand staircase and into a large room she knew at a glance was Michael's office. In an unfriendly voice, he ordered her to wait there. And without another word he left the room, leaving Della standing alone in the middle of a mystery, nerves on edge, stomach in knots, and brain on fire.

She looked around her. There was a desk with a telephone, and the temptation to place a call to Perry was overwhelming. The look on his face, the gravity of loss, was too painful; she turned away. Perry... her husband... whom she loved with all her soul! But to hold her lost daughter again was something she could not give up. Her baby… her girl… She knew that Perry would be going crazy, mobilizing Paul, praying to heaven and making oaths and promises to get her and Peggy back. And Paul would be cracking the whip on his operatives, leaving no stone unturned for his Beautiful and her baby.

Her thoughts, like her eyes, drifted. Soon she was staring at a large portrait hanging above the fireplace. It was Michael's. After observing him carefully, she could tell that over time Michael's face had hardened. In that image she no longer recognized the sweet and tender boy with whom she once fell in love. In his place was the face of a man with hard, ruthless eyes and a mouth twisted in bitterness.

The loud bang of the door slamming shut made her jump. Turning around she could see Michael standing with the same gaze she had seen for just a moment in his portrait.

A slight mocking and threatening smile began to appear slowly at the corner of Domenico's lips. Looking straight into her eyes, he said mockingly, "Mrs. Mason, I am pleased to find you took my suggestion to heart and came here immediately. I hope, as I indicated, you haven't said anything to that imbecile of a husband. Because if not, you can bet neither you nor he will ever see your daughter again." His grin widened into something repulsive. "Well, he won't really see his daughter again, regardless, let alone know she is."

Della's countenance was changing as the venom dripped from Michael's lips. The sweet, kind woman everyone knew was gone. In her place was a stranger. Her eyes, once vibrant with a hazel luster and a muted pain, were now dark with a suppressed fury. Every hurt, every wound she had suffered for the last nine years—all the pain of separation from Perry, all the loss of her baby, all the rage with no place to go—surfaced on her face. Anger infused her body, then gradually gave way to helplessness. It would do no good to attack him. She would gain nothing. But the desire for revenge as she faced the culprit of that pain and suffering almost made her forget herself.

Without saying a word Della moved with a practiced quickness to within an arm's length of Michael's face. The blow, when it came, arrived accurately to his jaw, snapping his head straight back and forcing him to slump momentarily against the door. She was already squaring up for another punch when he deftly blocked the assault.

"No, no, Missy!" He managed to stand straight again. "Although I am pleased to see you still remember what I taught you. I just never thought one day you would use it against me. But I'm certainly relieved you used your fists, not your knees."

She jerked her arm free and seethed. He laughed.

"Michael Domenico! Tell me, where my daughter is, or I swear…" She choked on her fury, but the threat was not to be laughed away this time.

But there was reason for caution. The darkness in Michael's eyes had held concealed hatred. Now, as he looked at her in scorn, all she could see was emptiness. They had the look of Death about them. She shivered, even as he deliberately roared, "OR YOU SWEAR WHAT...?"

She knew better than to flinch.

Michael's voice softened to a whisper as he pulled her to him. Bending to her ear, he took a deep breath of her scent, then said, "Tell me... What do you swear? I just want you to remember," he paused as she pulled to get away from him. When that failed, he continued in the same soft whisper, "Remember I have your daughter. It would be a true pity if something were to befall her before you had a chance to hold her . . ."

"Michael!"

"I can still disappear with her without a trace. One more incident, Della, and we are gone. Consider this your one and only warning."

If he thought she would be cowed by that threat, he had known nothing about her at all in the old days. Even Perry knew better than to issue her an ultimatum. She spoke clearly and without fear. "Michael Domenico, you will give me my daughter. And if I find out you've harmed one hair on her body, I swear I'll gouge out your eyes!"

He put his hands up in protest. "Take it easy, Della! Calm down! The little moppet is safe at the moment. And if things continue on course, she will be depending on you—and you alone—to make sure she stays in good health." He had her attention. She was slowing her breathing, processing what he was saying. "Before I let you go, I want your promise you won't try to hit me again. Promise?"

"Michael," her voice dripped sarcasm, "You know that there are two things I will not do. One is walk away from my daughter. The other is lie to you." She smiled, and for a moment the girl he loved so much, his sweetheart, appeared from behind the storm clouds. Then she was gone again, and the storm unleashed its fury once more. "No, I won't make any such promise. You have hurt me so much! You don't just deserve to be hit!"

"Promise," Michael insisted. Starting to get exasperated with her stubbornness, he pulled her towards him. "You promise?"

She was starting to feel sick. It's your pride versus his power, Della. He will win if you can't keep your head. And you had the nerve to tease Perry about losing his temper! Okay. Take one deep breath and give in to this—she wracked her brain for a simple term, then mentally shrugged—bastard.

"You have my word, Michael. I promise I won't try to hit you."

He relented and freed her.

"That wasn't a free exchange," she reminded, ramming her nausea back down. "I want to see her. Where's Peggy, Michael? Where is my daughter? Where… where is my little girl?"

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. Moving from his position to stand in front of the desk, he said evenly, "Don't be impatient, you'll see her soon. But before you do, I need to inform you of a couple of things. I told Peggy you came to see her because you missed her so much." Her hazel eyes met his and warmed. "But I also informed her Mason didn't want to come see her. Despite my having invited you both."

"Michael Domenico! Why did you say that to Peggy? She's going to think Perry doesn't love her! You know that is not true. He adores her! Even without knowing she's his real daughter."

He sighed and perched on the edge of the desk. Shaking his head, he said quietly, "Della, Della, I thought I made my intentions about you and Peggy very clear in that message. If you don't remember, I told you I wanted you to leave Mason. After your divorce you will marry me, and we'll raise Peggy as our daughter. But for this to happen, she first has to think Mason doesn't love her." He stood and started pacing. The next tumble of words was more aimless. "I don't know what damn charm the man has—this guy who can lure any woman to his bed! Even the brat developed an unnatural attachment to the sonofabitch. . . Ever since we returned to Chicago, that brat hasn't stopped talking about how kind and good a person Mr. Mason is. And how much she wanted him to be her father."

"That's not charm! That is the call of blood, although neither of them really knows they are father and daughter. Still, there is a strong bond that unites them, and you won't be able to break it! Even with all your deceptions."

He was seething again. His pallor was reddening by the second. Then he blurted, "We'll see, Mrs. Mason. We'll see if that's true! But I can assure you Peggy will love me. I also know she will soon forget about your beloved Perry Mason." He gave himself a moment to calm down. "Now I recommend you also do the same, because if you don't, you will never see your daughter again. It will be your decision whether to choose that good-for-nothing lawyer or be with me at her side. I'll have Peggy brought in, but I just want you to remember what I told you—she must think Mason doesn't love her. Do you understand?"

Della just nodded. There would be time in the days ahead when Michael would tire of Peggy's company. She never would. And in those precious moments, she would right some of the wrongs she had agreed to do to Perry. She watched him reach over and press a button on the intercom.

"Mrs. Meyers, please bring Miss Domenico to my office."

The crisp efficiency of the voice on the other end was loud and clear.

"Miss… Miss Domenico?" Her blood pressure spiked and she felt like the cartoon version of herself with steam coming out of both ears. Then she exploded. "SHE IS NOT A DOMENICO! She's a Mason, just like her father!"

"Della, so far you can't accept that Peggy is legally mine and if I feel like it, she can take my last name. And so, it will be! Besides, that little girl, she was always meant to be mine and yours. Not of Mason's progeny!"

She gasped. "Michael, why...? Why are you so cruel to me? I accept what I did caused you a lot of damage. I know I ruined your pride by leaving you standing at the altar. But surely— Surely this did not justify you ripping my newborn daughter from my arms! Or making me believe she was dead." She swiped at an escaped tear. "Tell me! Do you hate me that much?"

He was ready with a fury of his own. "And you! You still have the audacity to ask! Do I hate you? When I read your letter, even though I was really mad at you, I was still able to understand. I loved you enough to let you go without a fight. I just wanted you to be happy! If you weren't by my side as a housewife and mother, I knew you would be out there in the great somewhere, working. You have always been an independent woman since you were a child." He smiled at her then, the wistful smile of affection he never let surface. "I was happy to know you were fulfilling your dreams. Last I heard about you was that you had traveled to Bolero Beach to stay with your Aunt Mae. For me, everything was fine.

"But one damn day I had to go to Carmel . . . I was going to see some properties I wanted to buy. And I saw you... I saw you there! Strolling arm in arm with another man. And though jealousy washed over me, I thought I'd let it pass. I didn't want to speak, to stir up trouble for you. You were more beautiful than I remembered, and you looked so radiant. But as I watched, I saw that man gently caressing your belly. Then I was able to notice the small protruding bump. And I asked myself, is that why I let you go? So that you will end up in the arms of another man and pregnant with his child! But the straw that broke the camel's back was when I saw the way you looked at him!"

She tried to interrupt, but he lifted his hand. "You wanted the explanation, Della. You get it all." He mopped his forehead with his hand, then continued, "There was so much love in your eyes. You... You've never looked at me like that! At that moment my blood boiled and I promised myself if I wasn't happy, you wouldn't be, either. From there I started to find out everything about your life. The first thing I uncovered was that this man was your boss, a prominent lawyer, and that you were his personal secretary. There I realized that you were just a careerist, that you only walked away from me in search of a better match. So, I decided at that moment that I would make you suffer in the same way I did. Your greatest suffering would be to rip your newborn infant from your arms. At first, I thought to kidnap the baby leave you never knowing if she was alive or dead. But at the right moment an opportunity came to exchange it with that dead baby, so I did." He smiled, and it wasn't a pleasant sight. "How she came to reenter your life and provide me yet again with the privilege of ruining your life again, I don't know. But the baby belongs to me and if you want to be next to her, you will have to stay with me."

A knock at the door distracted them both. Michael was the first to recover. "Enter!"

As soon as the door opened, a small figure ran into Della's arms. "Mommy Della! Mommy Della! You came! You've arrived!" Peggy's excitement sent a thrill through her mother. She slipped to her knees and embraced her fully. Peggy's tight hug left her in little doubt of the torture she was feeling from the courthouse. "Oh, Mother!"

Della's heart began to fill with tenderness just by hearing that word. That word she never thought she would hear on the lips of a child. That same child she had thought dead for nine years, and now she was in her arms. "Did you… Did I hear you call me Mommy?"

Michael looks at her, eyes menacing. "Yes! She did! And now you will be the only one to decide if you want to be or not."